


Portrait of the Wrong Man

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed: Revelations - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, asscreed kinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen





	Portrait of the Wrong Man

The journey from Venezia to Roma was long and tiresome, riddled with small annoyances that left Sofia feeling quite out-of-sorts with her husband. She wished his Order did not need to see him the very moment he set foot on Italian soil, but neither could she refuse him, knowing that his sister awaited him at the end of the journey.

Roma was just as Sofia had imagined: the Colosseo, the Foro Romano, the Temple of Julius Caesar, and the Pantheon all impressive and beautifully restored. Ezio pointed each landmark out to her, and gave her a short history of each one, ending each with, "and then I bought it," making her laugh at his silliness. Sofia felt far more forgiving of him after that.

She sat beside him on the driver's seat, her head tipped to one side, leaning against him. Every so often Ezio would glance at her. 

"Would you like to drive?" Ezio asked her as they passed the Capitoline Hill. "It is not far."

Sofia shook her head. "You know the way better than I."

They crossed the bridges onto Tiber Island and Sofia noticed tension easing from Ezio's shoulders, a tension she hadn't even noticed before. She rubbed a hand up his back and he smiled tiredly at her.

"It feels safe, coming here," he admitted reluctantly.

Sofia said nothing, just hummed and looked around at the people as they passed.

A young woman wearing white robes met them at the door to an unassuming, but very tall building at the centre of the island.

"Emiliana Santi, time has been kind to you," Ezio said, kissing the girl's knuckle as he bowed.

"Mentore, it is good to see you back, alive and well," the Assassin replied.

"Is my sister waiting for me?"

Emiliana nodded. "In your office, Mentore."

Ezio nodded. "Will you keep my wife, Sofia, company and show her around the galleries?" He looked at Sofia, a silent plea in his eyes that Sofia could not deny; she wondered where he had perfected that puppy-dog look.

"I would love to see your home, Ezio," Sofia said, stepping down from the carriage as she spoke.

"Madonna," Emiliana said, bowing low like a man would, meeting a queen. If Ezio was the king of the Assassins, Sofia mused, that *would* make her a queen.

Ezio's business took a while: Emiliana showed Sofia the models of Maestro Leonardo's weapons, made by Ezio and approved by the Maestro himself, during the first years of the new century; she showed Sofia the collections of weapons and armours that reminded Sofia of Ezio's home in Constantinople (and a small part of her wondered if their future home would hold such a room; she squashed that thought). Emiliana even brought Sofia to the ceremonial chamber in the lower basement, which had some frescoes worked on by Leonardo da Vinci, also, a gift to his liberators after his release from Cesare Borgia's imprisonment. 

The last room Sofia entered was the gallery. There were a number of fine artworks, many by artists she knew of, and a small collection of Leonardo's works, and one which had a defiant label stating that one Gian Giacomo Caprotti had painted it, although it had been attributed to his master. There were a few portraits in the room, larger than life size, of members of the Borgia family, much to Sofia's surprise; they were painted with what she supposed was accuracy rather than emotion, and far less flair than Leonardo's work.

"Il Mentore painted these himself, Madonna Auditore," Emiliana explained.

Sofia was surprised: Ezio, a painter? She supposed it was not something he advertised, although having been born a noble son, she decided it was not unexpected. And certainly, Leonardo's influence would help nurture any artistic inclinations her husband might have.

"You should see the ones they rescued from the Villa Auditore, that he painted when he was seventeen or so, Madonna. I am not sure where Madonna Claudia keeps them now, but they show quite a bit of skill in one so young."

Sofia was saddened. Her husband had painted portraits of people he had... eliminated, from the age of seventeen? How had the romantic side of him survived? The side of him that would fetch a worthless painting simply because it held sentimental value, the side of him that would traipse all over a city for the right flowers in the right colour, the side of him that would hold her hair back when she was seasick and insist she was still the most beautiful creature he had beheld, even when she felt as green as her dress.

The last picture was one around which a few young Assassins had gathered. It featured a tall man, cowled and garbed in white, with military straight posture, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. It was another Leonardo da Vinci painting, one which would likely never see the light of day, and Sofia felt privileged to have seen so much of the famous Maestro's work in one day. The love he had for his subject shone through in the idealised figure, the bold colours, the smirk on the lips of the hard-eyed assassin Mentore it depicted.

Sofia did not know how long she studied the painting of Ezio as he had been, but eventually all the young recruits disappeared, and even Emiliana looked as though she would rather sleep, when Ezio stepped up behind Sofia and dismissed the Assassin girl with a look.

"What do you think?" Ezio asked, his voice studiously neutral.

"I think that the artist knew his subject very well. I think the artist was very fond of his subject," Sofia replied, eyeing Ezio; she was amused to realise he was holding in his gut in an attempt to reduce his waist.

"Anything else?" Ezio asked, again studiously neutral.

"I think that the man in this painting is not the man that I married," Sofia said, moving to twine her arms around one of his and lay her head on his shoulder. "The man in that portrait is an honourable one, no doubt, but he is far too serious, and I doubt he would bring anybody flowers, let alone white tulips."

"No?"

"No. I like this man far better," Sofia replied, kissing Ezio's cheek.

Ezio let out an audible sigh of relief. "I'm glad you said that. I do not think I could suck in my gut for another second!"

Sofia kissed him softly on the lips. "Tell me that we can start looking for a home in Toscana soon," she begged prettily. "I do not know how much longer I can convince my husband that my morning sickness is really sea sickness!"

"Your husband was never duped for a second, Sofia: you are far too strong of spirit to be felled by something so lowering as sea sickness. _Ti amo_ , Sofia," Ezio replied with a lazy grin.

"Hmm, _ti amo_ , Ezio."


End file.
